


There's a Power in What You Do

by LadyLondonderry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 02:52:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5611135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLondonderry/pseuds/LadyLondonderry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry moves to a new town under mysterious circumstances.</p><p>Louis leads a small pack of werewolves there. </p><p>It's all very convenient, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's a Power in What You Do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darkknight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkknight/gifts).



The rain beats softly on the car windows as the vehicle slows to a stop. Everything smells damp, like the world has been drowning for days under a soggy grey sky. The sun should be out, it’s midday on a Saturday and there should be sunshine and breezes.

Harry’s mum is driving, and she has already made three wrong turns on the way into town. Every time she realizes that she made a mistake, she cracks a crooked smile, sticking the tip of her tongue through her teeth, turns the van around and speeds a little faster. Each time, Harry double checks that his seatbelt was secure.

He’s squished between his mother and Gemma, on the seat that’s really no more than an armrest with a seatbelt. He and Gemma had fought over the window seat, but eventually Anne told them that if they didn’t hurry up and get in the van, nobody was getting the window seat because she was going to make them both sit in the back with the furniture.

So Harry got stuck in the middle.

It hadn’t been raining when they left in the early hours of the morning. The drizzle started about the time they stopped for breakfast, and had transitioned into a steady thrum on the windows by the time they set off again.

The moving van guzzles petrol too fast and smells strongly of some previous owner who clearly had a great love of smoking; even the air fresheners Anne bought at a rest stop don’t do much to mask the smell.

It’s around one in the afternoon when they pull into the driveway of a compact little two storey house, complete with shutters and front garden.

It’s still raining by the time they bring the last of the boxes in and Anne, having ordered pizza for the three of them, declares that they have officially moved to Doncaster.

-

Two days is not nearly enough time to become properly adjusted to a new home, Harry decides. His room is still more or less in boxes, first of all. Nothing is findable. He can’t find any pants other than the ones he was wearing when he arrived in town so he’s just been doing laundry on the daily. Second of all, everything is just so _abrasive_. The lights all feel weirdly brighter than they had back at their old house, to the point where the first day there before his eyes adjusted he considered going around everywhere in sunglasses. Everything also smells so strongly, too. Harry has never had a particularly outstanding sense of smell (which is an odd thing to consider in the first place), but lately it feels like he can distinguish things in the room by their smell even with his eyes closed. He’d never noticed before how much his mum smelled like cinnamon muffins, and whenever his sister comes into the room he can easily discern the lavender shampoo that she uses every morning. It’s a little overwhelming, and he knows that his mum would be more than willing to let him stay home for a few days, considering everything, but he also knows that he was already going to be starting school more than a month behind everyone else anyway and he’s going to have to get it over with sooner or later.

He’s waiting for the dryer to buzz to signal his clean pants as he sits in sweats in the kitchen munching on toast. Gemma is running around frantically looking for the different parts of her uniform. She grabs a piece of toast the second it pops out of the toaster, not bothering to butter it, and sticks it in her mouth as she continues to run around in search for her shoes.

“Gemma, I think we can probably arrive a couple minutes late and no one will care,” Harry points out, wrinkling his nose at the strong smell of burnt toast invading his senses.

“Maybe _you_ wont care,” Gemma argues, “But I’ll care. I don’t want to be one of those weirdos who walk into the middle of a class and have to introduce themselves to everybody. Maybe if we actually get there on time, I can sneak in unnoticed and I don’t have to do the whole introduction speech.”

Ignoring her, Harry gulps down the last of his toast as the dryer buzzes and he heads down to the basement to fetch his clothes out. When he comes back up a minute later, fully dressed, Gemma gives him an odd look.

“How did you hear that?” she asks, eyebrows furrowed. “Mum still hasn’t figured out how to make that buzzer louder, we can barely hear it even when we’re already in the basement.”

Harry shrugs. He’s feeling weird again – he’s been able to hear the buzzer from anywhere in the house for the last two days. When he thinks too much about it he sort of starts to feel like throwing up though, so he’s just choosing not to dwell on whatever keeps happening.

“I’m lending you the car for the day,” Anne told Gemma the night before. “I’m still doing an online commute while they get the Doncaster office set up for me to use, so I don’t need it and you don’t need to worry about catching the bus on the first day of school.”

Harry’s grateful, he really is. He’d really rather not have to stand at a strange bus stop at arse o clock in the morning for an unfamiliar bus.

Despite Harry’s calm demeanour as Gemma rushed around earlier, they arrive before the first class starts. It’s a large enough school that no one bats an eye when the new kids awkwardly walk through the door and make their way to the office.

The woman working the front desk at the office is nice enough and prints out their new timetables along with a map of the school for each of them. Gemma takes her timetable and map and is off like a shot, immediately abandoning Harry. He doesn’t blame her, really. He’s two years below her and she wants to make a good first impression, not a geeky one.

He makes his way to the locker bays, or at least where he hopes they are in accordance with the map. The timetable he has says he’s got locker 28 and subsequently has the combination for the built in lock below it. He takes a few tries to get the combination right, but when he finally gets it open with a bang, he finds – 

Somebody else’s stuff inside?

It’s actually quite a mess inside the locker; wrappers and crumpled up paper filling the corners, a few textbooks haphazardly strewn, and a gym bag thrown in on top of it all. 

Well he’s not sure exactly what he’s supposed to do with his own stuff now but he’s sure as hell not going to put it in what is clearly someone else’s locker. Just as he’s going to close it, however, he hears a voice ring out behind him.

“What the hell are you doing in my locker?”

He’s turning around to see whomever said that – explain the situation – when the smell hits him. It’s warm with a light amount of fresh soil and something like wet grass, like the outdoors and something like an animal. It’s too much and it’s something else and suddenly Harry is overwhelmed, because it smells like… like that night, that night that he can’t even remember but he knows _something_ and-

And he runs.

He just puts his head down and hurdles down the first corridor he finds, leaving the locker door wide open behind him. He can hear shouting behind him – can hear it _so well_ \- but something inside of him is panicky, roaring to get out and fighting to get away. He finds a side door and doesn’t even think of the possibilities of setting off a fire alarm or anything as he bolts out of it.

There’s a track around a football field directly out behind the school, and beyond that is woods. He heads for the woods like something is drawing him there. He wants the cover, the shade to stay in. When he reaches the trees he breathes in the smell of damp and underbrush, similar to the smell of the person inside the school and that- that something else, but better. Cleaner and clearer.

He leans his back against a tree, dropping his backpack next to him, and slides down onto the ground. Deep breaths in and out. In and out. So much for the first day of school.

 _Shit_ , school.

What on earth just happened? He was fine, everything was fine. He tries to recollect what just happened that spurred this. That guy – it was a guy, right? – who yelled at him. That must have been his locker, right? What did he look like? Harry didn’t get a good look; fluffy caramel hair, a little on the shorter side with some others next to him. That’s all Harry can remember. That and the way he _smelled_.

Why can’t he remember that night?

He can feel his heartbeat speeding up so he stops thinking about it. He feels the dirt beneath his fingers and breathes in deep, the smell of the woods around him calming him somewhat. Maybe he can start class tomorrow.

“Hey!” 

The shout rings out behind him and he tenses up immediately. The boy followed him – does he care that much about Harry breaking into his locker?

Even with the prevailing scent of the trees and greenery around him Harry is starting to smell the boy again, and he’s working really hard to not freak out again. There’s the sound of footsteps behind him and he considers how hard it would be to climb the tree he’s leaning against. Maybe he’ll get lucky and the boy wont see him.

“What the fuck were you doing in my locker?” the voice rings out again, sounding angry. “Do you think it’s funny to mess with me? Because you took off like a rocket so I’d say you’re scared shitless at this point. Not so funny messing with the gay kid when he figures out who you are, isn’t that right?”

Okay, the guy sounds pretty pissed. Harry’s feeling a little nervous about how close he’s getting at this point, his heart jack rabbiting, but he seems to pretty clearly know exactly where Harry is, or at least is an excellent guess, because he seems to be making a straight shot for him.

So far this is a _shit_ first day of school.

“Come on, I don’t have all day, I’m missing class for this.”

A branch snaps next to Harry and he lets out a squeak, ducking his head into his knees. The smell of the boy is over powering and he can’t figure out why. It’s scary and so much like that night but this close, it’s also something else, something sweet? 

“Hey.” A foot nudges his leg and Harry curls a little tighter. The boy doesn’t sound as angry but he’s not taking any chances. He doesn’t want a punch to the face on the first day. 

“Hey, are you okay?” There’s rustling and the boy seems to be kneeling next to him. “I’m not gonna, like, _hurt_ you or something. Hey, will you look at me?”

Harry’s face is still in his knees and he shakes his head. Everything is overwhelming. The boy is really close now and it turns out he smells good. Like, really good. He smells sort of like a happy memory that Harry can’t quite remember. He thinks he might be going crazy.

There’s a soft hand on his shoulder and Harry, to his credit, only flinches a little.

“Listen, this is a little too weird for first thing on a Monday morning, especially when I’m supposed to be in Calculus. But I gotta ask, how did you even get the combination to my locker?”

Harry takes a deep breath – god he smells so _good_ \- and reaches out his right hand to his backpack, grabbing blindly until he finds the timetable stuffed in the outer pocket. He takes it out and pushes it blindly toward the boy.

It’s taken from his hand and the boy scans the sheet. Harry takes a peek at him as he does so. The boy has bright blue eyes and strong cheekbones. His high voice contrasts nicely with his face. He’s still intimidating though.

He can see the realisation on the boy’s face when he gets to the locker number. “Ah…”

“I didn’t know it was yours,” Harry croaks out.

“Well… that would make sense,” the boy relents. “Sorry about, uh, that stuff I said. That, um, vaguely threatening stuff. Oops.”

Harry raises his head enough to look at the other boy. “It, um, it was just a bit of a shock…”

“Yeah, I- sorry about that.” He looks like he’s at a loss for words for a moment before changing the subject. “I’m Louis, by the way. Judging by this I’d say you’re new.”

Harry nods. “’M Harry. It’s my first day.” His cheeks burn as he says it, god he sounds like a child!

Louis doesn’t seem to think so though. He smiles and suddenly Harry feels like the sun has come out. The sweet scent is still permeating the air, and Harry thinks that normally a smell this strong would make him feel sick but this is… this is different. Much better.

“Well Harry, I think I may have started your first day off on the wrong foot, sorry about that.” He stands up and holds out a hand to help Harry up as well. “But this schedule says that you have Government with Mr. Ogle, and I happen to know that that class is on the way to Calculous, so please let me escort you there.”

Harry takes his hand and stands up, shouldering his backpack. He nods, thinking the map may have fallen out of the pocket that it was stashed in with his timetable anyway. “I’ll, um, I’ll just bring my backpack with me to class then,” he says uncertainly.

“Nonsense,” Louis says. “My locker’s a mess but until we find you a real one you can feel free to use mine. It was somebody’s dumb mistake but at least mine’s pretty empty most of the time. Don’t believe in bringing things to class in the first place.” 

Harry laughs lightly at that, and Louis smiles at him. They’re crossing over the track on the way back to the building.

“So, transferring a month into school, huh? Seems a little inconvenient.”

Harry nods. “Sure is.” He never thought up what to tell people on why he moved. That’s a problem.

“Parents got a new job?” Louis asks.

It’s not true, but Harry takes it. “Uh-huh, mum works for the library,” he says as explanation. Also not technically a lie.

Louis nods and doesn’t question further. He examines Harry’s timetable and explains where each of his classes should be.

He drops Harry off in front of the class that should be government and waves goodbye. Now Harry is definitely that kid that has to be officially introduced because he walked in late. Ah well, at least it’s not Gemma.

-

He gets through the next three classes, and really considers them rather dull. Apparently his former school was farther ahead than this one is in terms of curriculum. The fluorescent lights in every classroom also burn his eyes a bit but he still manages to get a bit of sleep in the back corner of World History.

Then comes lunch, and the great open area where the canteen is is already swarming with students by the time Harry arrives there. He’s got a lunch from his bag packed lovingly by his mother and just needs a spot a bit out of the way to sit and eat it. It’s not like he hasn’t made acquaintances from his classes that he would probably be welcome to sit and eat with, it’s just that it already feels like a rather exhausting day and he just wants a bit of time to recharge.

He’s considering hiding out in the library that he found on the way to his Literature class earlier when someone calls his name.

“Harry! Come on, we’ve got a seat open!”

Harry looks around blearily for a moment before registering Louis yelling over to him. That sweet smell is faint but beckoning. He’s sitting at a table with three other boys, and sure enough there is an empty spot next to him.

Harry walks over and carefully sets his lunch down in front of him at the empty spot. Louis looks quite excited that Harry was actually willing to come over to them. The other three boys are looking rather intrigued. 

“Lads, this is Harry,” Louis says, holding out his arms like he’s Vanna White. The blond boy to Harry’s right lets out a cackle before stuffing his mouth with cookies. There’s untouched fruit on the plate in front of him.

Harry smiles and does an awkward little wave. They all smell odd, sort of like Louis but without the overpowering sweet part, just the earthy tone that scared Harry earlier. It scares him a little now but he breathes deeply and tries to concentrate on his food.

“Harry, this is the lads,” Louis says, gesturing to the other three boys around the table. He names them off – “Liam,” – the brown haired one with a close cut and expressions similar to a puppy, - “Zayn,” – dark hair in a quiff, nodding when he’s pointed out, - “and Niall” – with the blond hair, who waves excitedly to Harry, mouth still full.

Harry greets them each politely before pulling the sandwich and fruit out of his bag. Everyone else falls into easy conversation about something or other, it sounds like maybe someone in their history class who’s a bit on the odd side. 

“…and he’s yelling something about us starting the revolution and I’m just like, Nick, shut the fuck up.”

Niall laughs at that. He seems to laugh at just about everything really. All things considered not a bad trait to have.

“But I’m like, Nick, you’re the one who didn’t want to do the reading. Your fucking revolution would only work if none of us did the reading, but you know that would never happen because fucking Jade and Perrie care about their grades too much-“

“Lou, you should care about your grades too,” Liam cuts in. “You’ve only got this last year to get good grades for university.”

Louis shrugs. “Nothing but A levels really matter anyway, right? I don’t think one skipped reading on the Roman empire is really going to make a difference. Besides, Professor Winston loves me.”

Harry’s been zoning in and out this entire time. Nothing of this is really relevant to him and while it’s nice to have somewhere to sit at lunch, he’s wondering how much of his own history homework he could get done before lunch is over….

“-Harry, are you listening? Harry!”

He blinks and realises that Louis was just snapping his fingers in front of his face. What is he, a dog? “What?”

“I was saying you should come over after school. You’ve not got a sport or anything to do, right? You just moved here.”

Harry shakes his head. “No, I was free, but-“

“Great! Listen, let me put my number in your phone. I’ll text you after school so we can find each other. We’re probably just gonna chill and play Fifa. If you’re no good at it, that’s okay because Liam’s absolute shit so it’ll even out.” He takes Harry’s phone the second he’s grabbed it out of his pocket, putting in his number and then sending a text to himself. “Sweet, here.” He hands it back and goes back to his own phone. “I can drive you, I’ll be by my car at the end of the day, just text me and we can find each other.”

Harry nods, a little confused by just now forceful Louis just got there. But, he figures it’s at least nice to make friends. Especially friends who smell sweet as a bakery and look like they’ve been carved lovingly from marble. “Sure, I just gotta tell my sister I won’t be heading home with her. She probably won’t count it as a big loss, it’ll just make it easier to look as if we’re not related.”

“Aww, you’ve got a sister that’s embarrassed to be seen with you?” Louis asks. “Big or little?”

“Big, she’s two years older,” Harry says. “Name’s Gemma.”

“Oh yeah,” Niall speaks up. “She was in my tech class I think. Platinum and purple hair?”

Harry nods. “That’s her. Don’t mention me to her, you’ll lose cool points.”

Niall snorts. Pretty much everyone cracks a smile. Harry thinks this year may not be too bad after all.

The bell signalling the next class rings and Harry, who is worried about not finding his next class in time, is up out of his seat immediately, waving goodbye to everyone at the table.

Before he’s too far away, he hears Zayn say quietly across the table, “You alright Lou? I’ve never seen you push for anyone to come over so hard before.”

He hears Louis make a frustrated sound – his strong hearing is a blessing and a curse right now – and say, “Jesus Zayn, can you not smell that? He’s not normal and he smells damn _good _-“__

__Whatever he’s saying gets cut off by the rush of people coming from the hallways who are pouring into the canteen area for their turn in the lunch line. Harry feels his cheeks heating up and surreptitiously checks for body odour. What did Louis mean he smells good?_ _

____

-

**Louis:** I’m just outside the east doors, cool?

 **Harry:** Yeah, one minute, need to pick up late hw from government class

When Harry gets to the student lot, it’s already mostly deserted except for people hanging around waiting for a sport to start (judging by their uniforms) and people sitting just outside of school grounds smoking. Louis is lounging by an old beat up little blue hatchback. 

“What about the other three?” Harry asks after he jogs up. Louis unlocks the doors and they both get in.

“They’ve got their own cars,” Louis tells him. “Or at least, Liam has a car. Zayn and Niall are both working on getting licenses. For now they just catch a ride with one of us. Liam’s driving them somewhere to pick up food.”

Harry makes a noise of understanding as he fiddles with the knobs on the radio, not turning anything on, just adjusting them back and forth. The car is almost overpowering with whatever it is that Louis smells like and for just a moment Harry wants to lick his neck to get more of it ( _what?_ ).

“So Harry,” Louis says after they’ve gotten on a main road. “Tell me about yourself. What it was like at your last school, what your score in Fifa normally is, the colour of your fur, your favourite food to cook, anything like that.”

Harry looks over at him like he’s grown an extra head. “Is fur another word for pubes or something, because that’s, like, not the sort of information I share with someone the day I’ve met them.”

Louis starts coughing and the look on his face is enough to tell Harry that that was definitely not what he meant. “That – um, no.” He recovers nicely, turning the car into a neighbourhood not far from Harry’s. “I mean, like, your actual fur.”

“My actual fur.” Harry deadpans. “I don’t know what you think you’re asking but I’m not getting it.”

Louis glances over at him looking pained. “It’s alright, you know,” he says. “I assumed you could smell me too, you don’t have to hide anything from us.”

Harry is starting to feel like this car is too hot and too small and yes it smells good but he’s about ready to walk home at this point. “I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says carefully. The smelling comment hit a nerve though. “But if you’re trying to make fun of me for earlier-“

“No, no I’m definitely not,” Louis rushes. “Look, I just-“ he growls in frustration. “I shouldn’t have started this conversation in the car, damn it. Listen, where were you last month on the…” he seems to be calculating in his head, “-fourteenth?’

Harry blanches. That was three weeks ago now. That was three weeks ago and the smell of the forest and dirt and sort of like Louis but not as sweet-

“Whoa, Harry. Breathe, come on, breathe with me.”

It takes a minute to figure out that Louis has stopped the car, and currently both his palms are cupping Harry’s cheeks. It feels nice, and like something to concentrate on. He breathes.

“Hey,” Louis’s voice comes softer. “I’m sorry about that, I wasn’t thinking. Are you okay now?”

Harry nods a little unsteadily and his cheeks feel really cold when Louis takes his hands away.

“How about we head inside,” Louis says, “this doesn’t seem like a conversation to have in a car.”

Harry follows when Louis gets out. They’re in front of what Harry assumes to be Louis’s house, a nice little brick split level with another car already parked on the road out front. 

“Liam!” Louis shouts when they get inside. “Niall! Zayn!” Harry wants to cover his ears, Louis is _quite_ loud.

A chorus of replies filters up from the lower level and Louis calls down, “Start the game and don’t screw with my teams! We’ll be down there in a bit!”

He takes Harry loosely by the wrist and leads him up the stairs into a bedroom with light blue walls covered in posters of football players. Everything is a mess, in a similar way to Louis’s locker was a mess, and the way it smells makes Harry just want to make a nest in the star wars blankets on his bed (Harry thinks this is going way too far and is worried for his own sanity at this point).

“Sit,” Louis points to the bed. Harry goes more than willingly. Louis pulls the rolling chair at the desk around and sits backward on it. “So Harry,” he says. “Let’s start again. Tell me about how long you’ve been able to hear way more than normal.”

Harry gulps. Is Louis like the CIA? Or no, is that the branch that deals with money? The Secret Service? The CSI? MI6? Area 51?

“Uhm-“ he clears his throat. “Well, maybe three weeks?” he says. He feels like he’s talking to a therapist.

“What about how long it’s been since you’ve been able to smell better than normal?”

Harry blushes at that. Can Louis tell that he’s been smelling him all the time? “Maybe the same amount of time? I dunno, why does it matter?”

“It matters,” Louis says. “Because I assume it’s been about the same amount of time since the last full moon. Are you okay with me asking that question again? The fourteenth?”

Harry takes a deep shuddering breath. “I- I don’t remember,” he says quietly.

Louis scoots over and rests his hand on Harry’s knee. Harry’s not freaking out yet, not like he was in the car, but the contact still helps. He takes a deep breath. “I was found in the woods the next morning,” he says.

He hears Louis’s intake of breath. Of course he does, he hears everything.

“I-I was out late, it was Friday and I had just gotten off of a shift at a little bakery near my house?” He’s not looking at Louis, he’s facing his knees, knuckles white, Louis’s hand a grounding point. “And I was mostly home, but then I was on the ground all of a sudden. There was some sort of really big animal, I remember getting dragged off of the sidewalk…”

He pulls up his trouser leg to reveal the scar running around his ankle. “I woke up the next morning. I don’t remember what happened.”

He let the leg drop, and hung his head. It was so shameful. He became petrified when he finally got home again. It was _his_ fault they had to switch schools. There were none close enough in the area that he could go to, but he couldn’t make himself to go to his own school, something inside of him telling him that whatever happened to him, the cause was there. He couldn’t do it. They moved to another city with a branch of his mum’s work two weeks later. 

“Harry…” Louis says, concern etched in his voice. “Do you know anything else?”

Harry shakes his head. “I don’t know what happened. All I know is I can hear and smell really well, and lights are really bright sometimes. It’s hard to sleep because there’s so much sound.”

Louis nods. “You adjust to that.”

Harry looks up at him for the first time. “How would you know?”

“Because the same thing happened to me three years ago,” Louis states. But he states it like he isn’t afraid of anything in the world so Harry doesn’t know if he can believe him.

“What does it feel like, then?” Harry says, because it’s not that he doesn’t believe him, it’s just that Harry’s life has sort of fallen apart in less than a month and Louis’s life seems ot be very much together.

“Well,” Louis says. “I know the person who turned me, and it sounds like you don’t, so there’s a bit of a difference there. But it feels like everything is too much all the time, at least in the beginning it does. There’s too much light and too much noise and there’s definitely too much smell, everything smells really specific and you’ve never noticed it before. And you find yourself accidentally listening in on people’s conversations because you don’t realise that you can hear them across the room, or even across the house, which really takes the surprise out of Christmas. And the closer to the full moon, the itchier your skin feels, like you just need to take it all off for a day and shake yourself out really well before putting it back on.”

Harry has felt a bit of that itchiness if he’s honest, but he hates even the idea of it, doesn’t understand why it’s happening to him. “What happened?” he asks, his mouth dry.

Louis gives him a pained expression. “You were bit,” he says. “I’d assume on your ankle. Last full moon a wolf dragged you off and turned you, the nasty fucker. Apparently just left you there too, which I’m going to have to look into.”

“But- but there aren’t wolves in Britain?” Harry clarifies.

“Not real ones,” Louis says. “At least, not in the last four hundred years or so. But there are every full moon.”

Harry looks at him with what he hopes is scepticism, but what he knows really isn’t at this point. Louis knows too much for that. “You’re saying there are werewolves. In Britain.”

“I don’t know why you have to add on that last part as if werewolves would be more real _someplace else_ ,” Louis says, “But basically, yes.”

“And I was bitten,” Harry says.

“Yes.”

“And now I’m a werewolf too?”

“I’d assume so, the way you smell,” Louis says.

Harry feels affronted. “I don’t smell!” he argues.

Louis gives a half smile. “You definitely do,” he says. “Like a wet dog. Probably pretty similar to the way I smell. Along with Liam, Zayn and Niall.”

“What-“ Harry stops in his thought-tracks. “Are you telling me all four of you are werewolves?”

“Well I don’t know what sort of a pack it would be if only I was a werewolf,” Louis says.

Harry stares at him. He can feel fear creeping in now, now that he’s had time to process what Louis is saying. He’s saying Harry was attacked by a werewolf. He’s saying that he is a werewolf. He has to get out of here. When is the next full moon?

“I-I I have to go I think,” Harry says, moving to stand up.

“No, wait!” Louis exclaims, clearly realising Harry’s train of thought. He pushes Harry back down with one hand. “No, listen I’m not like whoever that other wolf was that did this to you. I’ve never hurt anybody, and the three guys downstairs can confirm it, I swear.” He looks pleadingly at Harry. “Whoever did that to you is deranged. They’re probably unable to control their instincts, or they’re trying the wrong way to start a pack. Whatever it is, I swear I’m not like them.”

He looks so desperate to prove himself to Harry, his eyes pleading. 

“I just,” Harry sighs in frustration. “I don’t know what to believe. Why should I listen to you? Why do you care?”

“Why do I care?” Louis looks affronted. He moves to sit next to Harry, arm around his shoulder. “It’s because we’re pack now. You’ve moved into my territory, and you’re clearly a lone wolf. I’m taking you under my wing. You’re one of us now.”

-

Louis, it turns out, is deadly serious about taking Harry under his wing. First and foremost, this means spending as much time as possible with the pack.

The pack is actually just Louis, Niall, Zayn and Liam. Well, and now Harry of course. They tell him that they’re the only werewolves in the area. Each of them were turned by the same person, a werewolf who got out of control one night and bit four people before getting shot by a farmer who thought there was an animal after his cows. It meant they had to learn fast and with almost no help what being a werewolf meant and how to deal with it.

Louis said he would teach Harry everything he knows. But he also gave him books.

Two dusty old books that look old as all heck and smell like they’ve been kept in a closet for a good century or so. Louis says it’s how they learned everything they know. Harry barely does class reading as it is.

Still, it’s useful for looking up the weird things that happen to him.

Like for instance, the week leading up to the full moon he become almost nocturnal, feeling a pull to be out where the moon is. According to the books this is the lunar worshipping time (which makes him feel like this is some sort of religion out of The Odyssey or something), and that it gets better if he drinks lavender tea before he sleeps. 

He also figures out why Liam, Zayn and Niall seem to flock to Louis wherever he goes. Louis is apparently the leader of the group, the alpha, and the rest of them feel the natural need to follow. Louis tells him that this can go really wrong if you become part of a pack with an alpha who’s not a good leader, or who is only looking out for himself. Harry would think that he’s being prideful in saying that, but he can see the way Louis gets a sort of far off look when he says it, and wonders just how much of a burden it is for Louis to always be on the alert as pack leader to make sure that he’s doing what’s right for all of them.

The night of the full moon, the five of them are all in Louis’s basement. There’s a back door that looks out onto a small expanse of forest – one that connects to the back of the school, coincidently enough, and they’re all huddled fairly close together on the couch. Louis’s in the middle, and he’s always touching at least a bit of every one of them. Harry doesn’t know if it’s to calm them down, or calm Louis himself down. Maybe both.

Personally, Harry feels paralysed with fear. Reading books cover to cover won’t help him an inch with his first transformation, and he eventually just had to put a bookmark in it and put it down. Louis tells him that the four of them are going to be there for him, to make sure he doesn’t get into trouble or hurt himself. He says that it’s easier than he thinks now, being able to spend the night outdoors chasing squirrels and patrolling their territory. He says the shift isn’t as painful as the books make it out to be.

He’s been sort of whining ever since he curled up in the corner of the couch, not even meaning to do it. But he stops when Louis starts carding a hand through his hair.

“Hey,” Louis tells him. “You’re going to be fine.”

Harry nods. He leans in to Louis’s touch. 

Niall shifts so that he’s leaning on Harry’s legs. “I’ll teach you how to hunt rabbits,” he offers.

Harry feels sick. Rabbits are small and cute and should not be hunted.

“He doesn’t eat any of them,” Louis clarifies. “Just scares them and if he finds a slow enough fat one he tries to carry it around by the back of the neck like mother cats do.”

Niall looks proud of himself.

“We should probably get going,” Liam says, glancing nervously at his watch. For as much as Louis is the leader of the group, Liam does tend to be the one to get them where they need to go.

Louis nods though. He toes off his shoes and opens the back door. “We meet at the stream,” he says as they traipse out. He shuts the door behind them and locks it, slipping the key onto a leather necklace around his neck. “I’d lose it otherwise and we’d never be able to get back in,” he explains to Harry.

They make their way out into the forest, spreading out a little and stripping down. Harry watches nervously from a distance as four boys turn into wolves around him. They do it fairly quickly, seemingly just falling forward and landing on paws instead of hands. Harry’s not sure he can do it though. He can feel the pull, the need to be free of his skin, he’s just so scared.

Before he knows it, too caught up in his own thoughts, there’s a tail brushing his arm. He turns around and comes face to face with a large brown speckled wolf. He’s got a lean muzzle and piercing blue eyes, a key dangling from his neck. Harry knows who it is right away, that sweet scent seeming to seep from his fur.

The wolf jumps onto his hind legs, his front paws on Harry’s shoulders, and nuzzles at his cheek. Harry laughs, and falls backward almost immediately, landing on the soft earth. 

It feels easier now, in the presence of his alpha. He can feel his sense sharpening, his appendages feeling the pull to shrink or grow appropriately.

Wolf Louis paws at his clothes and it’s almost as an afterthought that Harry manages to get them all off in time, before he’s no longer human enough to even consider the issue with not ripping it to shreds.

And then he’s not human any more at all.

His first thought is that he can hear deer a quarter of a mile away, and how nice it would be to have some venison. He shakes his head of that thought after a moment though, remembering that deer, like, bunnies, are cute and harmless. His next thought is that he would like to run for miles. Didn’t someone mention a stream? He can hear water. He takes off in the direction that he hears it. 

A second later he remembers that he wasn’t alone as the speckled wolf joins him, lanky strides matching his own, tongue hanging lazily out of the side of his mouth. 

They make it to the water and join the others. It’s wonderful, feeling a part of something. More than that though, Harry can sense where Louis is at all times while he’s a wolf, and that’s the most wonderful of all. He’s confused when Niall seems to initiate a game of hide and seek, but figures it’d be fair as long as Louis isn’t the one hiding, because surely they would all be able to find him?

They spend the night that way, one game after another, until they’re all huddled in a heap by the edge of the forest, asleep when the sun rises.

-

It’s almost a week later that Harry gets to the last chapter in the thicker of the two books and finds the section on _Natural Mates_.

It uses the term _soul mates_ as well, which he thinks is rather ridiculous. This isn’t a fairy tale, after all.

 _Natural mates_ , it say, _or soul mates, occur very rarely. It happens when werewolves form an instant connection. While human they will be strongly attracted to one another’s scents, often feeling as though it is a familiar scent that they have smelled all their lives. While in full moon form, they will have a natural sense at all times as to where the other one is._

Harry stares at the page. 

He closes the book.

He has a troubled sleep that night.

-

He wonders, throughout the next week when he sees Louis, what Louis smells when he’s near Harry.

He wonders if Louis could always sense where he was that night in the woods as well.

He wonders if there’s a chance that soul mates could go only one way.

-

“You know you should say something to him.”

“Shut up, Zayn.”

“No really, this is a big deal and you’ve been sleeping on it.”

“I said shut up.”

The voices are hushed, and Harry is supposed to be asleep. To his credit, he _was_ asleep. His head is in Louis’s lap and his hair is being played with, as it has been for hours. He was the first one kicked out of the Fifa tournament, after all.

“You spend hours ranting about how delicious he smells,” Zayn says and Louis clearly holds in a groan, it rumbles in his stomach just where Harry’s head is laying.

“What is it you say he smells like, Louis?” Niall adds. Harry works hard to continue to pass as asleep. “I believe you said banana muffins with extra brown sugar?”

“Shut up shut up,” Louis growls softly. “I’m kicking you all out of the pack. It’ll be just me and banana muffin boy.”

There’s snickers all around the room.

Harry rolls over, on the pretence of still being asleep, eyes still closed, until he’s facing Louis. The room goes quiet for a minute until they’re sure he’s not awake.

Louis reaches for something and the volume on the television gets turned up a notch.

Harry nuzzles Louis’s chest, snaking an arm around his back. “I can make you banana muffins sometime,” he whispers. He feels Louis still under him and adds, “You know, as a first date.”

He sneaks a look up at Louis and sees his face is bright red.

“I knew you were cheating when you found me so fast at hide and seek,” Louis whispers back.

**Author's Note:**

> Anyway Harry never does bother to get his own locker.
> 
> Visit me at [LondonFoginaCup](londonfoginacup.tumblr.com) on tumblr and if so inclined you can reblog the fic post [here](http://londonfoginacup.tumblr.com/post/141119985974/theres-a-power-in-what-you-do)!


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